Redemption for the Forgotten
by Artemis Fenir
Summary: "He couldn't believe it, he really couldn't. The boy knew, saw right through his disguise. He slammed his fist against the wall, teeth barred and grinding. The boy was Gifted, and no one had warned him! The boy was now becoming more trouble than his undying soul was worth." Devil!Alfred x Human!Arthur
1. Chapter 1

Not all demons were born demons. No, some were born human, born of flesh and blood and bone. Some humans sold their souls for greed, power, love, desire. Some humans dabbled and toyed with the dark arts and trapped themselves into a body of rot, decay, death. Some humans – poor, unlucky, innocent souls – died and simply slipped through the cracks of Heaven, only to have their good deeds no longer matter as the cold, dark hand of Hell gripped them and reshaped them.

Some of those unfortunate ones give in to the darkness, some fight until their soul can no longer take it and fade away, and some… some learn of second chances.

Of those some, this is the story of just one.

Xxx _New York, New York – January 16, 1999_ xxX

It was pouring and storming that night as Alfred dangled his feet over the edge of the building. Leathery, battered wings shielded his body from the rain, allowing his observations to go unhindered. A light from a window shone from the next building over, illuminating the horrific sight of a young blond child being beaten by his father. The boy did not cry out, nor struggle – just glared at the older and stronger man in defiance. The demon grinned.

Oh yes, these were his favorite ones to deal with. When they would learn that their actions in life ultimately had very little to do with how their souls were handled in death, that fire in their eyes would burn out. Alfred imagined that how his eyes looked so long ago, and he relished it. It proved to him more and more that he wasn't the only one in this world or the next that was and will be wronged.

The demon couldn't wait for the child's time to come. Shivers went down his spine as he imagined the boy screaming, pleading, asking that infernal man upstairs _why, why him?_ Alfred grinned more, fixing his glasses upon his nose, a relic from his human days that he could not part with. He watched as the blond boy took another solid hit and busted out with a gruesome laugh as the child kept doing nothing but glare. Yes, yes, he was going to have fun with his newest toy…

_Xxx New York – January19, 1999 xxX_

He couldn't believe it, he really couldn't. The boy knew, saw right through his disguise. He slammed his fist against the wall, teeth barred and grinding. The boy was Gifted, and no one had warned him! The boy was now becoming more trouble than his undying soul was worth…

_Alfred grinned to himself, knowing his disguise was prefect – ladies and men alike swooned at the sight of the tall, good-looking blond and blue-eyed male. He just knew the boy was going to gobble up the sight of him._

_He noticed the young child sitting on the steps of his apartment building, surrounded by fairies and the like. Those small gnats flocked to children, pretending to be what people called 'guardian angels', but never communicating to them. However, it seemed like the boy __**was**__ talking to them, and laughing. No, thought Alfred, he was just seeing things._

_Before he could fully reach the boy, the child whipped his head around and stared at Alfred with deep, intense green eyes. A scowl set into his baby features, making him look like an unpleasant child. The demon tried to fight off the feeling of uneasiness as the child looked him once over, the scowl deepening._

"_Leave now, you are not welcomed here." The child spoke softly, the demon noting the thick accent to be British._

"_Aw, c'mon, kiddo. Don't be so damn rude!" He flashed his sweetest smile at the boy, hoping to fool him. "What's your name, lil fella?"_

"_No! I know what you are, and I know what you'll do with my name!" That defiance from the night before was on his face again, the boy standing up and challenging him. "I know what you are, and what you want."_

_The demon was taken back, blinking and unsure of what to do. "Now, I'm not sure what you mean, kiddo…"_

"_I KNOW, DEMON! BEGONE WITH YOU!" Alfred could only stare as the boy then stormed in his house, unable to follow him…_

Since then, he hadn't been able to get close to the boy. But… he HAD been able to get close to the people from other apartments and around town, so at least he now had something to work with.

"Arthur Kirkland, interesting name, kid…"

He looked up at the window he knew looked into the boy's room. He grinned sweetly and waved as he saw the boy's head peek through the curtains. "I'm going to make your life hell, Arthur Kirkland, and I'm going to enjoy it…"

**A/N: This is the beginning for a request fic by ****pikachucrazy23****, so I figured I'd post the beginning and see if it's alright so far. Reviews keep me going ~**


	2. Chapter 2

Xxx _New York – March 3, 2009_ xxX

For ten years, he's followed that fey child. He's watched him grow up from a scrawny and unsightly child into a handsome and lean young man. He's watched that fire in his eyes grow, and intensify, and he's watched that boy go from candy to cigarettes, classical music to punk and metal, from tot toys to sex and drinking.

He didn't understand it – by all accounts, this boy had _dipped_ himself into sin, ate it and relished it and kissed it, but he was still this… _golden_ child, beautiful and good and bright. His soul should taste bitter and dark and rancid, but he couldn't even look at it – the brilliance being too blinding.

Even all grown up, he _still_ talked to the fairies, still laughed and giggled and graced them with his smile. Alfred couldn't stand it, it didn't want to see that smile – no, not at all, he didn't want that smile directed at anyone – he wanted that face twisted in despair and pain. And that was what he set out to do.

However, with every death, every accident, every time the demon took someone precious from the Gifted boy, he just brushed himself off and shrugged at the demon. It drove him crazy – what did he need to do to break this boy? He thought he had him when he took his mother, the only solace Arthur had from his father and brothers – nothing. He thought he had him when he had the love of his life, Francis, set ablaze in a freak accident – nothing. He kept piling on and on with the hurt and pain, kept shoveling up tragedies and deaths – absolutely nothing.

The older the boy got, the more he was able to set Alfred off, in many many ways. He couldn't lie and say he didn't find the boy beautiful, or intriguing, or addicting. He had the choice to give up on the boy and find some other victim, but he couldn't let him go, or have some other demon break him.

This was _his_ fey child, _his_ Gifted boy, _his _victim to take.

"Must you follow me everywhere, you rotting piece of shit?" Arthur looked over his shoulder at the demon, startling him out of his thoughts. "Seriously, it's bad enough you sneak into the room to watch me shag, but must you follow me to my interview? And must you wear that form? It annoys me."

Alfred grinned sweetly, which only made the Brit's scowl deepen. "Why, Iggy, don't you like my company? And wouldn't it look silly for you to be talking to yourself? This way, it just looks like you're talking to a handsome somebody!" He scuffed his shoes against the pavement, pretending to be offended. The blonde boy had another job interview lined up, and of course he was following. He promised to make his life hell, and so far he had. He knew, he knew it wouldn't be long now before the first spore of sin would infect the soul.

"No, I don't bloody well enjoy your company nor find you handsome, now sod off." He said it so coolly, so calmly it ticked Alfred off.

"Seriously, Artie, what is your problem?! I've burnt your house down, had your mother killed off, killed like 5 of your boyfriends, had every best friend to ever come near you in a horrible and violent accident, ruined every job you've ever had, no one will come near you because they think you're cursed, why do you keep trying - ?!"

"_Emancipate yourselves from mental slavery;_" Oh hell, it's started. Every time Alfred went off the deep end and started yelling, the annoying Gifted man would belt out that damn Marley song. "_None but ourselves can free our minds. Have no fear for atomic energy, 'Cause none of them can stop the time. How long shall they kill our prophets, While we stand aside and look? Ooh! Some say it's just a part of it: We've got to fulfill the book__**.**_**"**

"Okay, okay, sheesh, I get it… Your voice is incredibly horrible, it's even making _my_ ears bleed."

Arthur smirked, and Alfred swore to himself that it didn't make his nonexistent heart flutter. "I'll have you know many people thought my voice to be incredibly moving and powerful."

"If by moving as in making people run away, and powerful as in making people scream, I can believe that."

The Brit laughed, bitter but warm. "What would you know, demon? It takes a heart to know music and how a person feels from it. You don't have one."

For some reason, that stung. It was true, but it stung so much and the demon couldn't figure out why. He grinded his teeth, his canines becoming sharp and twisted. Oh, he was going to make this interview terrible. He was going to make sure he'd never have another interview again, as long as Arthur Kirkland lived. Fist clenched and stuffed into his pockets, Alfred swore to himself that he was going to get that damn fucking soul if it was the last thing he did.

* * *

"Really!? Really, a fucking heart attack!? All because you're pissy at me?" Oh, he had done it this time, and he was damn proud of himself. Arthur was storming away from the building, the ambulance already having questioned him. It was a quick process; the EMT's were familiar with Arthur now. The demon skipped happily behind him, not even putting on his human front, no, he wanted Arthur to be the only one to see how happy he was.

"The man didn't have to die, demon! You could have broke my leg or something, or maybe made me late, or suddenly get cancer. You didn't have to punish him! You didn't have to punish anyone… "

Alfred would have giggled were he capable. "Aw, but Artie, dear, you know I can't do that. You can survive all of those. It's the people around you who you care about. What would be the point of hurting you… when hurting others works so damn well?"

Arthur stopped, stopped so suddenly that if Alfred were wearing his human guise he would have toppled into him. There was silence for the longest time. As Alfred went to go open his mouth, him being uncomfortable with said silence, the Brit turned around and _glared_ – glared at him so terribly, that is Alfred were mortal again, he would have pissed himself.

"Listen here, you vile, disgusting, _hellish creature, _you will never have my soul. I will join a convent, become a Father or a priest, give myself and body and spirit to God before I even think of letting you in." The thick accent grew thicker with rage and grit. "I know you were not always a demon, it is very easy to see that, or at least for a Gifted as myself. You were once human, were you not? I bet you blame your demon demise on everyone but yourself, eh?"

Alfred felt he wings flutter, his claws clench, he felt the bottom of what use to be his stomach boil with venom and tar. He shook with a demonic rage, the first time he had ever _truly_ felt such intense emotion since the day Heaven let him fall.

"Have you ever possibly thought _you fell because you're trash, garbage, you deserve to be nothing more than a festering, decaying, revolting mass, full of – " _Arthur never finished what he was saying. The demon couldn't take it, couldn't take what could possibly be the truth.

With an unsteady jerk of his wrist, Alfred slashed across the blond man's face, leaving behind such ragged and ripped scratches, already becoming infected from the filth of the claws. Alfred raged, screamed, clutching at his hand. He couldn't touch Arthur, no, not while his soul was still pure and good. However, the pain was not what angered the demon.

The fey child had not once flinched, nor screamed, nor even touch his face or the already healing wounds on his face. All he did was let the fairies swoop in and mend him, his gaze not once leaving Alfred.

The demon brought his injured hand to his chest, cradling it like a child, and growled as he disappeared into smoke. He'd let Arthur have this victory, for now.

**A/N: Was originally going to make this three chapters, but I rather like how this is turning out… How about some reviews with whether or not I should extend this? ;D**


	3. Chapter 3

Xxx _London, England – May 13, 2009_ xxX

Rage. Pure, unfiltered rage. Two months afterwards and he still felt the ache from that incident. He still felt the urge to keep slicing that smug, beautiful face open again and again. He dangled his legs over the side of the building, looking into the only lit window from the building across - much like all those years ago. He watched as Arthur was beaten by an older, stronger, violent man – much like all those years ago. He watched as the Gifted man did nothing but glare in defiance – much like all those years ago.

Arthur had moved from New York back to England, having missed his native land since he was uprooted as a babe. Of course, the demon followed him, but kept his distance. If the Brit knew, he never let on. He just went on about his business, drinking and smoking and partying and bringing strange men home.

Alfred was conflicted while watching the scene play out before him. He felt a sickening gratification watching the fey child beaten, and yet… and yet his insides twisted and turned. That was _his_ victim, no one else's. No one else but him should have the privilege of hurting him… He would make this man pay.

X

He fluttered closely behind the man as he left Arthur's apartment. The beating had lasted another good 2 hours before the German man figured enough was enough. He was originally going to wait until they reached the man's residence, but the twisting feeling just kept growing. It called him to action, demanded he do something right _then_ and _there_.

And so, he did.

Quick as a wink, he flew off and rounded a corner, taking on his human guise and stepped out in front of the German, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. "Hello Ludwig! Lovely evening, am I right?"

The man stopped in his tracks, looking at him strangely. "How… How is it that you know my name?" Alfred grinned more as he could hear the man's heart beat faster, watch sweat roll down the man's brow. _Fear_, this is what he wanted – and he wanted more.

"I know alotta things, really. Like… what you were just doing."

"I-I don't know what you mean – "

"No one touches _**my**_ Gifted One," The demon's voice rose with each declaration of ownership, his voice deepening and scratching like nails on a chalkboard. "_**My**_ fey child, _**my**_ victim, _**my **_Arthur!"

With no warning or hesitation, Alfred growled and lunged at the man, the filthy and disgusting mortal who laid a hand on what was his, and plunged his clawed hand in his chest and wrapped his fingers around his still beating heart. Before the man could even scream, the demon snarled and latched onto his throat with his teeth, ripping it to shreds as he still clung unto his heart. With the vaguest thought of how thick with sin and bile the man's blood was, he closed his fist around the heart, squealing with joy on how it popped like a water balloon in his grasp.

As he withdrew his hand and watched the bloody mess fall, he smirked. No one messed with Arthur, no one made his life hell. That was his job, and his job alone.

He heard the sirens of police in the distance, and smiled – that was his cue. He disappeared, going back to his building, the one with the view into Arthur's room. He wanted a specular view when the Gifted boy was told of the man's demise.

* * *

Xxx _May 15, 2009 _xxX

He ground his teeth, oh how _dare_ he. He could not get over the lack of emotion Arthur showed when the police informed him. How could he not _care_? Alfred avenged him, Alfred saved him! How _dare_ that little fucking bitch not grovel to him and ask for his soul to be damned!

The demon paced outside of the Brit's apartment, waiting for him to come out. He was going to rip his face right off, mar that beautiful body with long and sickening scratches, he was going to slice his –

"Bloody hell, how long have you been pacing?" Alfred's head wiped around at the familiar voice, joy and anger missing together – the joy catching him off guard. "Seriously, isn't there another person you could be stalking right now?"

He blinked, unsure of what he was seeing was true. He could swear he saw a small smile grace his fey child's features before setting into his usual scowl. However, business was business, and he had a lot of business to discuss – mainly his undying urge to stomp the boy to death.

Unfortunately, the only thing to come out of the demon's mouth was a stuttered "Ar-Arthur" and then a snarl. He didn't even have words right now, just rancid emotions and lovely bloody daydreams.

Arthur laughed, his head tilting back (and baring a throat Alfred could easily _rip open_) as he did so. "Cat got your tongue this morning? Strange, as you're usually so talkative." The laughter stopped, his voice growing quiet. "Especially after you've killed someone close to me."

He exploded, that last comment driving him mad with rage. "Close to you!? Close to you, the man was BEATING you!" He secretly delighted as the boy's face widened in shock, taking his chance to rush up and grab him by the hair, yanking his head to face Alfred. "He was not _close_ to you, and he was _touching_ what is _mine_ to destroy." He threw him down, the force sending Arthur to the ground and making him scrape his hands and face. He licked his lips as he began to smell the fey child's blood seeping from the scrapes.

"You remember this, Arthur Kirkland, fey child, Gifted One, you _will_ succumb to me, and I _will_ take your soul. _**You are mine**_."

There was no defiance like Alfred expected in his eyes, no fire or grit or anger. There was only sadness and pity. "No, demon, you won't. I can't allow that." The Brit stood up, brushing himself off but not once breaking eye contact. "If I allow that to happen, you will be lost as well. Two innocent souls will be gone, and I will not allow that to happen."

The demon narrowed his eyes. "Lost? Two?"

"Yes, Alfred. Lost. Two. I know who you really were. I know." And with that, he went back inside the apartment, leaving the demon dumbstruck.

He had never, in the ten years he plagued that boy, told him his given name.


	4. Chapter 4

_Xxx London, England - May 15, 2009 xxX_

How did he know? What did he know? As far as he knew, no one knew - no one cared.

_**Fire, it was everywhere. It was burning. Everywhere, burning.**_

The confusion would not leave him, the curiosity would not release him.

_**It was everywhere, consuming everything. The kitchen, the barn, the house, him.**_

Why would the fey child ever care who he was? He didn't, not anymore. That was lifetimes ago - when his heart wasn't black.

_**Did everyone get out okay? Did he save everyone? The fire was teasing him, flickering and dancing around him. **_

It was one thing for Arthur to know he was once human, it was obvious to anyone who knew anything about demons and fallen ones and fairies and angels. However, to _know_ who he was? What did he know?

_**It's burning, it hurts, why is no one coming to help him? Why was he left to die, why does no one care why can't he get out WHY IS HE IN HERE WHY DID HE EVEN CARE WHYCAN'THEGETOUTIT'SBURNING.**_

Alfred shook his head. It did not matter. Even if he knew, which the demon was starting to believe (_lie to himself_) that the fey child was just bluffing. He couldn't possibly know, nor did the knowledge change anything. He was going to make his life Hell, make him grovel and beg to be damned.

He was going to enjoy that day very much.

"Oi, demon... you're quiet. I don't like it, makes me believe you're up to something." As usual, the British man was sauntering around town, floating demon close behind. "You've been quiet for two days now. Finally given up?"

"No..." He was unsure of what to say. The fey child acted as if nothing happened, as if he did not turn Alfred's existence upside down. The human did not supply information, and the demon did not ask.

"Well then, if you're going to keep plaguing me, talk. Your presence was much more tolerable when you were babbling on."

The demon crossed his arms stubbornly and childishly. "I don't want to."

Arthur growled, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Quit being such a child."

"_**Quit being such a child, Al. You can't be a hero, you can't save everyone."**_

"_**Sure I can, Mattie. Someone has to."**_

"I am not being a child!"

"_**Just you watch, mother! I'll be this town's greatest hero! Everyone will love me!"**_

"No, you're right. You're being a _pouting_ child. A moronic one, at that."

"_**Don't be so moronic, and actually do something meaningful."**_

"I-I am not! Shut up!"

"Aw, did I hurt the baby demon's feelings and make him cry? Should I go easy on the little one? Should I - "

"_**Quit crying, boy. You brought this disgrace on yourself. You brought this all on yourself."**_

" - just leave the _pouting moronic child_ here to cry by himself?"

"_**Shut up, you drunk abusive bastard! You're not my father!"**_

"Shut up, I said! I SAID SHUT UP." He buried clawed fingers in golden locks, yanked and ripped until he could feel hair being uprooted. It wasn't enough, it didn't assuage the rage in him.

He yanked again until his throat was bare, only barely registering that Arthur wasn't fighting back, and raked his other hand against the soft flesh. He relished and anguished as dark, thick blood seeped out and choking sounds gargled up from him.

"A-Al... Alfred..."

The whisper was soft, pleading, begging. He let go immediately, watching as the fey child fell to the ground. The fairies took no time swarming around him, healing marred flesh quickly while leaving no trace. The demon looked down to his hand, not surprised by what he saw - it was bleeding, mangled and broken. When he looked back up at Arthur's face, he expected to see resentment, ferocity, the same look of defiance he would give all his attackers.

He was taken back by what he saw.

Pity, and empathy, and a sense of understanding. He saw emerald eyes look at him, through him, he was filled with a sense of _dread_. How could this blessed man _understand_ him? How could he hurt what was _his_? But... wasn't that why he was his, to hurt and destroy and drag to Hell?

"Shhh, Alfred... it's alright, lad. I... I know you didn't mean to..." He reached out for him, that hand so soft and welcoming. He hissed, spitted, screamed before disappearing.

He never saw the look of rejecting on his Gifted One's face.

* * *

_Xxx Boston, New York - 1689 xxX_

He looked up at the stars, smiling widely as they shined so brightly. He didn't care about what happened earlier. Crying didn't change a thing, and if anyone asked, he'd lied like always and say the tears were from being too long without his glasses.

He didn't hate his family, except for maybe his father for being the town drunk, or his mother for being too cold and ready with the switch, or his brother for being too easy to mold. He harbored no ill will towards them - that was who they were.

It still didn't take away the sting of the earlier beating and jeering of his parents.

He was going to prove them wrong, however. He was meant to help people, he just knew it! It's all he wanted out of life - to see a person's heartfelt smile when he did something heroic.

"Jones! Jones!" Alfred whipped his head at the direction of the startled voice. "It's yer house, boy! It's on fire!"

His eyes widened, his pulse quickened, his mind went blank. He ran, faster than even he thought possible, his family needed him! Maybe... maybe just this once, he'd show them he wasn't worthless, that he _was_ a hero.

And with no second thoughts, he ran into the blaze...


	5. Chapter 5

How did this happen? How could he have opened his heart to him? They were complete opposites - light and dark. They could never touch each other without one inflicting pain upon the other. They could never talk without sarcastic sweetness and biting remarks. There could never be anything but rage, hate, disgust, and vileness between a demon and its victim.

But there was.

Maybe because he was no regular demon and he was no regular Gifted One. He was a hero who had fallen from grace and he was the fey child who fell with him. One could not live without the other. One could not exist without the other.

From the first moment the demon started following the child around, he loved him. He felt pride as the demon watched the boy grow into a young man. All they really knew was each other, that's all they ever needed to know. He would only ever love him.

Yes, there was Francis - and he did love Francis - but not like he loved the demon, not like Alfred. But, he also knew he could never have Alfred.

The absence made him hurt inside, made me feel as if the knife in his gut never stopped twisting slowly. The years rolled by, quietly and painfully, and each day he waited for him to come back. He was alone again, as he had been when he was a small boy. He didn't like it, didn't want the loneliness.

X

_Xxx Boston, New York - September 2, 2013 xxX_

Arthur rolled over in bed, staring at the alarm clock he had neatly perched beside his bed. He had given himself enough time to shower before heading to work. He absently thought about how he missed not working while he haphazardly slapped the alarm off and rolled out of bed.

He sighed deeply, stretching his body slowly. The Brit looked around the room, eyes roaming over the dark and emptiness of the space. There was nothing because he wanted nothing. There was no one because he wanted no one.

_Arthur..._

Tinkling bells rang in his ear, a sound he once treasured.

_Arthur, please..._

In the three years since _**he**_ left, the fairies had been trying to console him, make him move on. You can't save everyone, they said. He chose his path, they whispered. He refused to believe that. Arthur knew the demon would come back, he could feel it.

The bells kept ringing, and he kept ignoring.

He had shut himself in from the outside world. He set himself on auto-pilot, going through the movements like an empty shell. It beat laying in bed all day, dreaming about a demon who had been away for so long.

* * *

Why couldn't he get over him? Why did his heart insist on keeping him glued to him? He was healthy and handsome and he could easily find any man or woman to take him. He had before.

But, it was different now.

They wouldn't know him, not like Alfred. Alfred knew him, inside and out. He knew his favorite tea and how he hated the heat. He knew he could play the guitar but he really loved opera more than rock. He knew just all the right buttons to press to make him upset. He knew that his greatest fear was to be alone.

No one else would know him that he did.

There were days that he wondered... if he were to damn himself, promise his soul to the darkness, would he see Alfred again? Could they be together like that? It was after those thoughts that he would remember that it was his job to save Alfred, even at the cost of his sanity. He needed to make Alfred remember what it was like to be human.

It was days like those that made Arthur curse the fairies for showing him Alfred's life and death in his dreams. He knew it was selfish of him, but he suspected it would have been easier on them both if they were a normal demon and a normal Gifted One.

X

_Xxx Boston, New York - September 5, 2013 xxX_

It was unusually hot today. It was days like this that he regretted moving back from England, but he didn't have the heart to stay there. Alfred wasn't there.

The sun beat down on the blond man as he sat outside for lunch break. The heat pounded against his pale skin, burning him relentlessly. He didn't care, already feeling his skin scream in protest to the exposure. Being numb to the outside world had its advantages.

It was quiet, eerily quiet, since the fairies stopped talking to him. It was a bad omen, the gravest one. It meant one of two things - they had forsaken him and his sins would pile up or they went for a tea break and would be back after a few days. He seriously doubted the latter.

Arthur lit a cigarette, inhaling. He took joy in feeling the smoke invade his lungs, destroying him from the inside out. As far as he was concerned, smoking wouldn't kill him soon enough.

Was this how the rest of his life was going to be like? Wallowing in his self-pity, considering damning himself? Would he spend his whole life missing a man who was to never be his, was never meant to be his?

He flicked the burning butt over his shoulder as he got up to get back to work, silently wishing for the world to be set ablaze.

* * *

Life had no meaning for him anymore, not without Alfred. He was alone, absolutely and totally alone. No one cared if he lived or died, not even the fairies anymore. Not even he cared if he lived anymore.

Three years was too much, too much. How did he make it? Why did he continue to push through, to believe he was worth Alfred coming back for? The fairies tried to tell him, and he didn't care. They were right to leave him, to desert him. He was nothing. Just a small child who grew up into nothing.

X

_Xxx Boston, New York - September 8, 2013 xxX_

The tiles on the floor were cold and sticky. Arthur snorted bitterly, trying to ball his fists but was unable to feel anything.

_Wonderful, I've decided to die on a dirty and disgusting floor. How very poetic._

The ceiling started to spin, and the air started to feel heavy around him. He was going slowly and painlessly, and that irked him. He wanted it to be painful as his blood seeped all over the floor. He wanted to have his last thoughts be filled with misery and Alfred.

Timidly, something seemed to slip inside him, he could feel it. His vision was dimming and it was getting harder to breathe. Death was upon him, he knew it. His fingertips drew patterns in the red ooze surrounding him, a small smile on his lips. It wouldn't be too long before he saw his Alfred.

"Alfred..."

"Arthur! Goddammit!"

He blinked slowly, but to no avail. His eyes shut down, only his senses of hearing and smell and touch working now. He could feel his body being cradled like a small child, could smell burning flesh around him, could hear the quiet murmurs of reassurance.

"Why, Arthur? I'm sorry..."

"No, don't be," he whispered to what he believed to be imaginary. It didn't matter to him, it was the sweetest lie he could have ever imagined. "It brought you back to me, if only for a moment."

His heart pumped slower and slower, until it was nothing at all.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: WARNING! This chapter will absolutely stomp on religion. If you feel uncomfortable with that sorta thing, please skip this chapter. However, to be honest, I'm not quite sure why you're reading this fic when I clearly kinda hinted at stomping on it in like... the first two paragraphs of chapter one.****So, please, no more messages about how I'm going to Hell, m'kay?**

_Xxx Boston, New York - September 8, 2013 xxX_

Why? Why was this happening? What the fuck went wrong? How could this happen to his fey child?

Alfred continued to cradle the limp, lifeless body of Arthur in his arms, no longer caring that his arms and flesh and bones were being burned, melting away. He held his head against his chest, wishing he had the ability to cry. No matter how hard he tried, it required a soul to cry, something he had lost forever ago.

Why had it taken him three years? Why was he gone for so long? He _knew_ Arthur was calling out to him, could _feel _it swarm all over his body. Oh, how he wanted to answer that call, to hold and cuddle and rip and destroy that man. And maybe... that's why he didn't go, maybe that's why he took so long. How could you be a demon who wanted to destroy and a man who wanted to hold?

Unfortunately, it took so long for him to realize everything, that he lost everything.

The demon looked down at his Brit's face, his insides twisting at the almost peaceful look on it. It shouldn't have ended this way. He had lost Arthur, because Arthur thought he lost him. Why was Fate so cruel? Why did Fate do this to him?

"Why!? Why did you do this?!" His pleas went unheard and unanswered. The rage inside only fed from the silence. "Why would you fuck me over like this? Why take the only thing that MEANT something to me?"

The rage boiled up, radiating from his very core. He trembled in it, exhaled it out, only to breathe it in through clenched teeth. He laid Arthur's cooling body down, gaping and oozing wounds starting to close, and stood up. His eyes jumped up to the ceiling, as if he knew someone above was watching. He snarled, a sound so low and menacing, so full of hurt and anger and disgust.

"Why did you do this to me? I did not deserve this, I never did!" Each word was raised in volume, until he was screaming. "I only wanted to help people, it's all I ever did! Why!? What is the point of anything, if you're only to fall into the darkest, deepest bowels of Hell!?"

There was a wetness from his eyes that was trailing down his face, but it did not register to him. All he knew, at the moment, was the feeling of loss and regret, mixed with pain and disappointment. Seconds ticked by, stretching out before the demon like hours. The anger died slowly, being pushed out by the heavier and more profound feeling of loss. It was then that the gravity of the entire situation struck him.

"Why did... Why did _Arthur_ have to suffer? He didn't deserve... to die."

_**Foolish hellspawn... He did it to himself.**_

The silence was sliced by a deep, throaty voice in his head. He knew what _it_ was, and the rage flared back up.

"No! I did it to him! He could have been happy with Francis, he could have been happy with friends! I ruined it! I ruined _him_!" His voice was challenging, combative. No one, not even _him_ above, would be allowed to say such filth about _his_ fey child.

_**He was too weak, and he faltered. He fell in love with the one thing he never should have.**_

"I... Will he...?"

_**Burn in Hell for what he's done? Oh yes, yes he shall.**_

The demon's eyes widened. Was that possible? Could a soul so pure and bright be sent there? Could it ever survive the darkness?

_**Yes it can, demon. Yours did, and look what you've become.**_

Images flashed in his mind - the pain and misery he went through, the horrific things he saw and did just to survive, the souls burning and screaming at him, souls he himself had damned. He had lost his humanity, let the darkness eat and chew at it until it was gone.

He refused this fate for Arthur.

"Never!" the demon screamed, whirling and curling his body around the blond's so fast, it was as if he had been there all along. "I won't let you take him!" At his response, laughter filled the room, echoing off the walls and the floor, booming and screeching.

_**You cannot tell me what to do! I do as I please, and take as I please.**_

"Then..." The demon looked down at Arthur's face again, softly stroking the man's cheek with a clawed finger. "Then... take me."

_**You? Why should I even consider such a filthy thing as yourself?**_

"One less demon, wouldn't it be? Destroy me, in exchange for Arthur's life."

Every nerve in him tightened. He had just offered to die in order to save Arthur. Was that... demonic? Was that human? He didn't really care anymore, as long as Arthur lived. It wasn't much, but maybe it would at least make up for ruining the poor fey child's life.

_**Are you certain?**_

"Yes, I am."

_**Then so shall it be done**_

X

The room was spinning, and he hadn't even open his eyes yet. His head pounded and his arms throbbed, his insides felt like hot jello being sloshed around, and he could tell he was laying on a cold floor. He couldn't remember what the hell he was doing, or while he would be on a floor instead of his bed. Maybe when Alfred pops in, he'll -

_Alfred_.

It all rushed back to him, flooding him with Alfred-less memories of the past three years. It hit him so fast, he had no chance to stop the tears welling in his eyes. He forced himself to sit up, finally opening his eyes and surveying the damage he had done.

Nothing.

The gapping wounds he inflicted on himself were gone, and he would have believed it was all a dream if his blood still didn't cover the floor. No matter how hard he thought, he couldn't figure it all out. Surely, the fairies didn't do it, they could only heal so much. He was pretty damn sure he actually _died_, so it wasn't a botched attempt at his life.

_Arthur..._

His ears barely picked up the sound of tinkling bells. He couldn't hide the smile forming on his lips. The fairies came back.

_Arthur... We missed you._

"A-And I missed you. But please, right now, tell me what's happened." He couldn't explain it, but the Brit felt... uneasy. He was nervous and queasy and he did not understand why. "Please, tell me how I'm... still here."

_Oh, dearest boy... We're so sorry..._

And as the fairies told him everything, how the demon he loved sacrificed his own existence to save him, he felt a mixture of warmth and stillness. He wanted to believe that Alfred was no longer suffering, and that maybe his soul was at peace.

_Oh, child... He left us with some last words._

"Did he? Tell me, what did he say?"

_My hand was made strong by the hand of the Almighty._ _That is all he said._

It took him a minute before he understood, and when he did he could feel the warmth surrounding him, battling out the stillness. Alfred made his choice. He chose to die as a man protecting the one he loved and not as a demon.

For that, Arthur was proud. He was proud to say he fell in love with a man so extraordinary, even after Heaven casted him out. He took a deep breathe, silently vowing to himself to not grieve, and to live again.

"May you find peace in your redemption, my love..."

**A/N v.2: Okay, so this took me foreeeeeever, and I'm sorry. I had this all finished when a storm hit and knocked my power out. When I got it back, this whole chapter... WAS GONE. Perfection was flushed down the drain.** **After having 52 rewrites (no, I'm not kidding...), I just stuck with attempt #53. I hope it's at least alright, even if I'm not ENTIRELY happy with it. I hope you enjoyed this fic of mine :D**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: BWHAHAHA! How many of you thought the last chapter was it? **

_Xxx Boston, New York - December 31, 2013 xxX_

Winter had hit hard this year, the snow coming down in gallons. People bundled up tightly as they wondered the streets at such a late hour. Cars crawled along slowly on the icy, slick roads. The wind roared hourly, making people clutch tightly at their coats and scarves.

Arthur couldn't help but think the weather was reflecting his heart.

Try as he might, he couldn't stop the grieving, no matter the vow he made. While he was still proud of Alfred, he couldn't stop the selfish yearning for the demon (_former_ demon).The only reprieve he had was knowing that his tortured soul was finally at peace.

In the months that followed, he did indeed get his life back together. He cut out smoking, but not the drinking, and got himself a steady job at a coffee house, where he currently was located. He was healthy and living, like he knew Alfred would really want him to be. But, he could never bring himself to love again. No, there would never be anyone else.

Thankfully, he still had the fairies to keep him company. However, lately they had been acting rather... odd. They would smile so sweetly and giggle at him, as if they knew a secret they didn't. It did bother him slightly, but he knew it couldn't be anything bad. They were his friends, they would never harm him.

_Arthur... *giggle*_

He cocked an eyebrow and shifted his eyes to look at the fairy speaking, letting a small smile slip onto his face. "Yes? What are you giggling at?"

_You have a visitor!_

Well, that was odd. They never informed him of anyone approaching the coffee house before... Was this what all the constant giggling was about, this one visitor? And, if that was the case, why did they know so far ahead of time?

Arthur didn't have much more time to muse before he heard the coffee house's door open, a pleasant tinging filling the room. He greeted the man without looking first, alredy heading to the cash register.

"Hello, welcome to Cream and Sugar, how may I help you?"

"Well, hiya Artie!"

His heart leapt in his throat. That voice, that annoying nickname... He whipped his head up to finally face the customer and almost chocked.

He was met with blazing blue eyes behind glasses and dark, almost sandy blonde hair. The man was obviously just slightly younger than him, judging by the baby fat still present on his face. He wore a shit-eating grin and the glint in his eyes spoke of mirth and mischief. The man just continued to stare at Arthur, through Arthur, into Arthur.

But, could this really...? No, this was just cruel...

"E-Excuse me!?"

"Artie. It's short of Arthur. That's what's on your name tag." The man pointed at his chest, making the Brit stare down at his name tag and feel rather embarrassed. He cleared his throat.

"Mm, yes, of course... But it says **Arthur**, not **Artie**. Besides, we're not on a first name basis, anyway."

"Touchy, eh? Not real good on customer satisfaction, are we, sweetheart?" The man winked, he had the **nerve **to wink at him!

His face grew red, he could feel it, but whether from embarrassment or anger he could not say. "I do bloody well at pleasing customers who are not total gits! Now, are you going to order or what, Yank?!"

The younger man shrugged. "Nah, I just saw you in the window and thought you were cute. I'll take my leave, but no worries, the hero will return! Until the, Artiiiiiie." He grinned more as he stretched out the nickname and turned around to saunter off.

Arthur balled his fists, grinding his teeth harshly. Oh, this man pissed him off. Greatly. And, because of it, it killed him on the inside. Alfred pissed him off, Alfred called him Artie.

"_Emancipate yourselves from mental slavery;"_

It was so soft, he almost didn't hear it. The man was singing, standing in the doorway and singing.

"_None but ourselves can free our minds. Have no fear for atomic energy, 'Cause none of them can stop the time. How long shall they kill our prophets, While we stand aside and look? Ooh! Some say it's just a part of it: We've got to fulfill the book._"

Arthur was stunned, mouth agape and heart still as the younger blond finally left the establishment, only to stop at the window and smile at him. It was a wonderful smile, full of love and adoration. He felt time start again as the man blew hot breathe on the cold window and wrote with his finger.

_Alfred F. Jones_

_Remember that name, fey child, because I plan to make you scream it :P_

He ran outside, not caring for anything else around him. As soon as he flung open the door, he could feel the cold bite at his coatless body, but he didn't care as he launched himself at the now laughing man in front of him. He buried his face in the crook of his neck, tears flowing freely. Arthur felt a hand, a human hand that wasn't burning from the mere touch of him, softly pet his head.

"I miss you, Artie."

"A-Alfred..."

"Hush down, sweet cheeks, I'm right here... where I belong." He then chuckled. "Well, won't you look at the time?"

Confused, Arthur lifted his head up to stare at his watch. 12:00 AM. Midnight. The first day of the new year. He hummed in approval. "Well, this is a good way to start the new year, dear."

"I know of an even better way." Without even looking, he could hear the suggestiveness in Alfred's voice. Before he could ask what he had in mind, he felt cold but wonderful fingers slip under his chin and bring his head further up. His eyes widened in surprise, then slip close in pleasure as warm lips met his own.

As the parted for air, he heard the soft whisper from his partner, "You're mine, fey child, from now til forever."

He grinned, kissing the former demon, the man in front of him, the one who had his heart since a child. "I've always been yours, you daft idiot. Always."

X

Not all demons were born demons. No, some were born human, born of flesh and blood and bone. Some humans sold their souls for greed, power, love, desire. Some humans dabbled and toyed with the dark arts and trapped themselves into a body of rot, decay, death. Some humans – poor, unlucky, innocent souls – died and simply slipped through the cracks of Heaven, only to have their good deeds no longer matter as the cold, dark hand of Hell gripped them and reshaped them.

Some of those unfortunate ones give in to the darkness, some fight until their soul can no longer take it and fade away, and some… some learn of second chances.

Of those some, this is the ending of the story of just one, one who found true love.


End file.
